


breathless

by amilynholdo



Category: Up the Women (UK TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28506975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amilynholdo/pseuds/amilynholdo
Summary: Margaret is back from a rally, and Helen is a bit too interested in her tales. Myrtle makes a comment about her daughter's feelings that causes a realisation for Margaret.
Relationships: Margaret Unwin/Helen Bute
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	breathless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [answerstobefound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/answerstobefound/gifts).



> most of the Concepts (tm) in this came from lou's incredible mind so yeah, this ones for u babez, mwah
> 
> also like... yeah some of this is not entirely like... historically accurate but what can i say, the concept of 'suffragette sitcom fanfiction' is in itself not super historical and im just having fun

‘You should have seen it! Miss Kenney opened with such a stirring speech and by the time she was finished there was nary a dry eye among us!’ 

Margaret waxed poetic to the rest of the circle, who listened with varying degrees of interest. 

‘Well, at least I assume as much.’ she continues. ‘It was hard to tell through my tears. But I imagine everyone else was just as moved.’

Emily is following with fervent interest, Thomas is looking at Emily and nodding whenever she does. Myrtle looks perpetually amused. As for Eva and Gwen, they seem more invested in the choice of biscuit for their tea than they are in anything coming out of Margaret’s mouth.

‘And the crowds, oh, the crowds-’

‘I’m here, I’m here!’ Helen interrupts, walking into the hall with her usual panache.

Margaret turns away from her more-or-less rapt audience and clears her throat.

‘Hello, Helen.’

‘Margaret was regaling us with tales of her recent attendance to the suffrage rally in London,’ explains Myrtle, and it’s hard to tell if the amusement in her tone is a good sign. 

‘I know, Mother.’

Helen unpins her hat.

Myrtle speaks with a knowing smirk on her face: ‘And you came expressly to hear how it went?’

‘As a matter of fact, yes.’ Helen replies, conspicuously nonchalant. ‘Of course, I do not care about the rally, but someone has to make sure the good name of the Banbury Intricate Craft Circle wasn’t dragged into mud by the actions of one frenzied suffragist.’

With that, she takes a seat next to Margaret, out of practicality and no other reason. 

Margaret simply observes in silence as Helen orders Gwen to pour her some tea.

Helen raises an eyebrow. 

‘Well? Go on, then, tell us about the rally.’

‘Yes. Well. As I was saying…’ Margaret begins.

She is immediately interrupted by Emily.

‘Did anyone get arrested? Was it exciting? Oh, I cannot wait until I can get myself arrested!’

‘Emily!’ admonishes Helen.

‘Well, as it happens, yes, Emily.’ Margaret sits up a little taller. ‘I came very close to arrest.’

‘I wish I could get a rest…’ Eva muses over her teacup. ‘Poor dear Liberty and Chastity have been waking me up with their nightmares every midnight for the past week, then Patience, Providence and Prudence wake up at two for their nightly feed, at three Justina, Ernestina, Constance and Clemence wake each other up to play. Thankfully by four they’re usually asleep, but Charity, Virginity, Abstinence, Moderation, and little Suffrage are all up at five, ready to start their day!’

‘What about John?’ asks Gwen.

‘Oh, John sleeps through it all,’ replies Eva with a smile and a shrug.

‘Not  _ a rest _ , Eva,’ explains Margaret. ‘Arrest. Detention. Lawful apprehension. Police taking you into custody, handcuffs and all.’

Eva looks lost. 

‘Why would they arrest women?’

‘For militant actions, Eva.’

Emily stands up, suddenly riled up, and proclaims: ‘For courageous actions! Breaking shop windows! Revolting! Demanding suffrage by any means necessary!’

‘Sit down, Emily!’ Helen’s reprimand comes immediately, and the girl obliges.

‘Goodness, Margaret, isn’t that illegal?’

‘Yes it is, Gwen, that’s why they arrest people for it.’ Margaret pauses for a moment. ‘It’s actually far more terrifying than it is exciting.’

‘Oh, I’m sure none of our fellow suffragettes were scared.’ comments Thomas, in a blatant attempt to garner Emily’s approval.

Margaret looks down to her needlework.

‘I was.’

The admission comes out softly, barely audible by the other members of the circle, but Helen hears it well.

‘You didn’t risk arrest, I hope. I don’t think it would bode well for the Banbury Intricate Craft Circle for our member to be identified as a criminal.’ Helen speaks sanctimoniously, announcing her loud disapproval to the circle. Then, she turns to Margaret, and adds. ‘I really hope you didn’t endanger yourself.’

If she was hoping not to get heard, she was misguided. Myrtle is looking at her from across the circle, raising an eyebrow.

‘I was fine,’ explains Margaret. ‘I was out of the reach of the police so I wasn’t really in any real danger. The WSPU members at the front, they were the real heroes. One of them went on with her speech as they dragged her away in chains, it was really something. It really made me proud to be wearing my rosette, to be sharing a fight with them. It filled me with ardour, and a resolve to continue fighting toward liberation. On the train back, every time I saw a fellow woman, I felt a surge of pride, imagining that they may have been at the march too, their faces lost to me as mine was to them, in the great faceless mass of freedom!’ 

Margaret is so incensed that she barely notices Helen’s eyes on her, studying her like a rare fossil or a precious stone. She also doesn’t notice Helen shaking herself out of this rapture.

‘It is rather presumptuous of you to simply assume every woman on that train was a suffragist.’ Helen put particular disdain on the last word, signalling to everyone her distance from it, and from Margaret’s passion. ‘What of reasonable women, who do not wish for the extinction of marriage, the death of femininity, and the triumph of female depravity?’

‘What of  _ un _ reasonable women, who seem far too interested in certain forms of female depravity, Helen?’ Myrtle intervenes, insinuating something that Margaret doesn’t quite grasp, but which seems to affect Helen. ‘Do they wish for the extinction of marriage?’ Myrtle continues poking at her daughter, ‘Do they wish for a different kind of combustion altogether?’

Helen, a shade of red that no one but her mother had seen on her face before, sits a bit taller and gives a little shrug.

‘I have no idea what you’re referring to, Mother.’

Margaret looks around the room for a clue about what she is missing.

‘Tell us more about ardour, Margaret’ Myrtle exhorts, ‘I’m sure Helen won’t mind.’

‘I don’t know what she’s talking about,’ admits Eva in a half-whisper that everyone can hear.

‘She’s teasing Mother because she says she and Margaret act like an old married couple.’ Emily explains, in far too loud a tone for Helen’s liking. ‘She does that a lot, back at home, when she wants to get on Mummy’s nerves. She says Mother is in love with Margaret.’

Margaret sits still.

‘Oh, Helen but that is wonderful! Congratulations, Margaret!’ exclaims Gwen, a very large, very toothy grin on her face.

‘Gwen, stop that at once!’ Helen shuts her up.

Margaret is still sitting there, silent for once.

‘I- I doubt that is true, Miss Rapier.’ Thomas explains to Gwen like he’s the only one that gets it. And maybe he is. ‘I suppose Mrs Von Heckling is saying these things because she knows Mrs Bute won’t-’

Thomas stops speaking mid-sentence after Helen shoots him a look that would stop a train on its tracks.

Margaret doesn’t move.

‘I don’t get it.’ Eva comments, jovially ignorant, ‘How on earth could two women be in lo-’

‘That’s enough!’ thunders Helen. ‘This ends here. If I hear any of you mention this again, I can assure you they will never be seen inside this hall again!’

Margaret is still petrified.

The longest second of silence takes over the room.

Then, Margaret speaks in a higher-pitched voice than usual.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to check something in the kitchen.’

‘Check what, precisely?’ questions her Myrtle, mischievous as ever.

Margaret clears her throat.

‘I’ll have to check the… levels. The levels of… jam!  In the jars! The levels of jam on the jars! Just in case someone wants to… make a sandwich.’ She takes a big gulp of air after that. ‘I have to go now!’

And just like that, she disappears into the kitchen.

* * *

Margaret has been pacing up and down the kitchen, breathing frantically, for what feels like hours but are in fact barely minutes, when there is a knock on the door.

She has no voice to respond, but she can’t let anybody in, so she rests her back on the door, hoping to block any intruders.

There is another knock. 

‘Margaret, let me in right this instant!’

Helen’s voice reaches her distantly, muffled by the door, but it still reaches her.

Margaret says nothing and leans a bit more heavily on the door.

The knocks continue, and then they stop. Margaret lets out a relieved sigh.

Then, the kitchen hatch opens and Helen’s profile peaks in from it.

‘Margaret, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but it’s in everyone’s interest that you let me in through the door, because otherwise I’ll be climbing in through here.’

Margaret tries to stay as close to the door as she can.

‘I can see you.’ Helen says, in a deadpan tone. It does nothing to calm Margaret down. ‘Listen, just let me in and let’s get this over with.’

Margaret, whose breath has not calmed down this entire time, finally steps away from the door. Helen walks in, and closes the door behind herself. 

The sight she finds in front of her would be amusing if it weren’t so worrying. Margaret continues pacing the room, muttering to herself, her breath reaching a life-defying irregularity.

Helen looks Margaret in the eye.

‘This better not be because of what my mother said.’

Unfortunately, that is precisely what this is about.

Margaret is still not speaking, but has stopped pacing, dedicating her entire being to hyperventilation instead.

‘Margaret!’ Helen calls her. ‘Stop that. Talk to me.’

When Margaret does talk it is a jagged speech, like her words are struggling to keep up with her thoughts.

‘I thought- I thought it was normal to feel like that! The… My heart beating like this whenever you walk into the room. I don’t know what I thought! I thought it was anger! And you do make me angry sometimes… Well, you make me frustrated. Because I wish we didn’t have to be like this all the time, I wish… I want you on my side, Helen. I spend far too much time thinking about what it would be like if we were fighting the same fight. But I thought that was normal! It’s normal to want to resolve conflict! Once, I even asked Eva how she dealt with feeling her breath go whenever you’re around! I thought we  _ all _ felt like this because you’re so… charismatic. Eva didn’t have the faintest idea what I was talking about! And I  _ still _ didn’t realise!’

So caught up in her own speech, and her own thoughts, and her own mess of a heart, Margaret doesn’t dare look at Helen’s face. If she did, she’d find it soft.

Instead, she continues.

‘Hearing Myrtle say those things… I know they’re not true and I know she just said them to get on your nerves and I know that’s why it works, because… Because there’s no truth in it. But I found myself wishing there could be. I understand if this makes you hate me even more than you already do, I understand. But I- I do feel that way about you. That’s why I feel so thrilled when I see you, and so electrified when we argue, and- and- The point is… The point is...

I think I love you, is the point.

Oh Lord, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sor-’

Suddenly, Margaret’s back is against the door once more, but this time it has nothing to do with keeping things out and everything to do with letting things in. Helen’s hands are on her upper arms, holding her steady as she… 

She kisses her.

Helen kisses her, and Margaret doesn’t know what to do with herself. She keeps her hands suspended at her sides, unsure where to put them. She closes her eyes and in that instant she is sure she could be happy if she never had to open them again, and she could be forever in this moment.

Yet, as moments tend to do, this moment ends. 

Just as she has brought them together, Helen breaks apart. She waits until Margaret opens her eyes again, and for a second their gazes meet. Then, Helen steps away from Margaret, and takes a seat at the table, nonchalantly pretending to fix her hair. 

Margaret is left with her back to the door, and if she is honest she might need the support, as her legs are not quite ready to hold her up after that kiss.

‘What was that for?’

‘I had to shut you up somehow.’

Helen replies in a matter-of-fact tone, it could have been cold, if it wasn’t for the glint in her eyes as she briefly glances at Margaret. 

‘Does that mean I’ll need to keep rambling if I… if I want another one?’ Margaret whispers the last second of that, like a confession.

‘For the love of God, please, no!’ stops her Helen. 

‘Oh.’ Margaret makes a strange face, half disappointed, half resigned. She sits herself down on the chair next to Helen’s, letting her weight fall with her exhalation. Helen realises that she thinks Helen’s ‘no’ was about the idea of another kiss.

‘I meant no rambling,’ she explains, softening her voice. ‘I don’t need you working yourself into a panic about what you think my feelings are or aren’t. Rest assured I have spent much more time and energy considering my feelings for you than you can concentrate into a few panicked moments. I have come to my conclusions long ago. I simply never thought you’d feel the same.’

There is a vulnerability underneath her seriousness, and it leaves Margaret speechless.

‘Now, about that other kiss…’ Helen speaks coyly, ‘I think you’ll need to find another way about it.’ Helen raises her eyebrows, daring Margaret.

Margaret has to do this now, or she never will. She grabs Helen’s hand, and gently pulls her from her chair. For once in her life, Helen seems docile, keen to find out what Margaret will do. She lets herself be sat on Margaret’s lap, and when Margaret brushes a tentative thumb against her cheek she leans into her hand with no shame.

Margaret sits up a little bit taller to place a curious kiss on Helen’s lips. Helen responds with another, and then another, her hands tangling themselves into Margaret’s hairdo. Margaret lets her palms fall on Helen’s hips 

When they break apart, Helen is looking down at her with an affection in her eyes that is almost enough to break her.

‘I  _ am  _ on your side, you know?’

* * *

‘Can I move now?’

Gwen asks from outside the hall, where she’s been left crouching, for the others to climb on her shoulders and try to peek inside the kitchen window.

‘Yes, Gwen! Come back in!’ calls her Myrtle, exasperated, but otherwise preoccupied.

‘Are you sure that’s what you saw?’ Emily asks Eva.

‘Yes, I’m sure!’ Eva replies, proud of herself. ‘Unless it wasn’t…’ she adds, more confused than ever.

‘It was, it was! I can feel the air of sapphism from here!’ proclaims Myrtle, ‘Which means, my dear Emily…’ 

She doesn’t complete the sentence, but she does extend an expectant hand to her granddaughter. Emily huffs and puffs as she slips a note into Myrtle’s hand, wondering how on earth she is going to explain to her mother that she lost her monthly allowance on a wager on Helen’s love life.

**Author's Note:**

> can you get nicher than this? probably not. anyway, this was such fun to write.
> 
> if you are one of the 3 people who will read this:  
> 1) thank you for being a hero  
> 2) making your presence known in the comments is highly appreciated <3


End file.
